demetrius mulciber is coming apart at the seams (scrubbedraw) wrote in blurred_lines, @ 2009-05-03 17:31:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! [1980-05] may, ! npc, demetrius mulciber |
Who: Demetrius Mulciber and an appearance by the very cranky Healer of the baby DE ward.
When: 3rd May, 1980. Early afternoon
Where: St. Mungo's
What: Demetrius finally takes a good look at his injuries and isn't pleased.
Rating: PG
Status: Completed narrative,
Drawing the curtains around his bed and pushing himself into a sitting position, Demetrius swung his legs over the side of the bed and carefully stood, bracing himself on the bed and testing his left leg gently. It was nearly back to full...something. Though it had been rather far gone when he arrived, most of the muscle in his calf had been gouged away, as many of the ligaments and tendons in his ankle. The bone had snapped as well, and he had broken it again the morning he had woken up and attempted to stand. Though with copious amounts of pain potions (which he had been taken off of yesterday for a period of six hours to make sure no lasting damage was sustained as far as sensation went), he hadn't felt much of it. But he was hardly concerned with the state of his foot, and while there was a oblong outline of a scar where new flesh had met old flesh, he didn't mind it so much. Grabbing his wand, he conjured up a small mirror. Setting it on the bed for the time being, Demetrius proceeded to strip away the flimsy hospital gown he was wearing, and then ripped off the bandages covering his abdomen with his free hand (his wand arm having been forcibly bandaged to his side). Conjuring a pair of actual, decent pajamas out of thin air and pulling on the bottoms quickly, he grabbed the mirror he had previously conjured and enlarged it so it was nearly as tall as he was. Charming it to stand on its on, he took a deep breath and looked at it. The Healers had mentioned to him that there would be scarring, but Demetrius hadn't been prepared for the extent of it. Turning slightly so that his right side took up most of the mirror, he lifted his arm and nearly gagged. A perfectly circular scar from his underarm to his hipbone. A perfect circle of burnt away flesh. It wasn't even completed healed, it wasn't completely scarred over yet. But it would only get worse. It couldn't get better. The burn also seemed to have made it onto the underside of his arm, and another wide burn extended to his elbow. With his left hand, he traced the scarring from his hipbone (which was dangerously close to very important things) and up his side. The edges stung at his touch, but the farther into the circle his fingers traveled, the less he felt. There was no sensation in the center. Sitting back down on the bed, his knees feeling weak, he hid his face in his hands, completely overwhelmed. Grabbing the shirt he'd conjured, he pulled it on and started buttoning it up, wincing as the fabric brushed the painful edges of the burns on his arm and side. As he'd finished buttoning the shirt, his curtain was jerked back by a harassed looking sixty year old woman, the resident Healer, whose tall hair swayed dangerously as she drew herself to full height (a stunning 5'4"), her enormous chest heaving. "Mister Mulciber," she started with disdain. She loathed calling him Mister, as he was forty plus years her junior and she had been Healing for more years than he had been alive thank-you-very-much. "I thought I told you not to move from your bed." Shrinking his mirror and setting it on the bedside table, she picked up his discarded bandages and hospital gown and glared at him. "I am not fond of your blatant disrespect and if I didn't value my job so highly I would discharge you this second and let you suffer at home." "I wish you would," he retorted, though he didn't feel like verbally sparring with her. "I'm going to bring someone by immediately to replace those bandages," she said, and without warning she turned on her heel and left. Lying down on top of his blankets and staring at the ceiling with a mournful expression on his face, he knew very rationally that everyone else in the room was more injured than him. But that didn't seem to comfort him at all. He was going to be permanently in pain, permanently scarred and there was no fixing it. He shifted uncomfortably, his side aching slightly. Rolling onto his left side, as to relieve pressure on the immediate area, Demetrius sighed to himself and closed his eyes, willing himself to fall asleep, but the heat of his skin and the throbbing pain kept him awake. |